Reach back to the past

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How could something that happened in the past stay in the past?
People wish for that. Their hurtful behaviour, their mistakes and the pain. It has a beginning and an end, an end in the past. It is over and stays. We would move on and act like we did before. We fill water in a broken vase pretending we don’t see it leaks. We continue to shoot the ball reckless. The same ball we shot with all our strength and broke the lamp on the corner of our house. It was funny and just a lamp. I never shot the ball the same way in that place.
The past is not just the past. It is not over and done. Not a thing we vaguely remember and hope it was less hurtful than we remember. When would the past stop – and where would it start? Now? Now?
It does reach out and lingers and haunts and just simply exists – still. It is the reasons and its consequences is my reason for change or for no change. It is my reason for love.
Time won’t undo. It makes it more difficult to trace back and seeing the past will get blurrier and harder but never really impossible. Somehow it will linger on. Through the cracks and the doors we forgot to close, through our nose and ears and through the things we never knew.
The past is scary and beautiful. It is love and hate and pain and luck, happiness – if that exists – and truth. We live in it.